


I'll Follow You In Light, And Lead You Out Of Darkness.

by Beautiful_Like_You



Series: As Long As You Want Me [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Meeting, Fluff, Love, M/M, Teenagers, Trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautiful_Like_You/pseuds/Beautiful_Like_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>THIS IS A WIP. I've fallen a bit out of the Sherlock fandom the last months due to stuff happening in my life etc, but I have not given up on this. I don't know when I'll get back to it, but I will.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Something To Hold On To

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A WIP. I've fallen a bit out of the Sherlock fandom the last months due to stuff happening in my life etc, but I have not given up on this. I don't know when I'll get back to it, but I will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A WIP. I've fallen a bit out of the Sherlock fandom the last months due to stuff happening in my life etc, but I have not given up on this. I don't know when I'll get back to it, but I will.

Sebastian Moran was sixteen years old when he first laid eyes on that adorable kid that had just transferred to his school. Short, he was. Short and skinny, and Sebastian found himself wondering what he was doing here.

He looked too young to be here, out of place. As if someone had forced him into a role he was never meant to fit. Sebastian was certain that he wouldn’t make it, that someone would break him, but when he looked up, so did the boy, and what met him he would never be prepared for.

The young boy, barely filling out his own body, stared into him with eyes too old and big and challenging for a kid like him, and for what seemed like an eternity he glared. He glared and glared, making Sebastian feel like a walking sin, and then he… smiled? Yes, he most certainly did, and it sent something through Sebastian, an electric spark, a shudder. He didn’t smile back, but apparently his startled reaction was what the boy had wanted because his smile turned into a grin as he turned away.

Sebastian started to look forward to meeting the kid in the halls, those peculiar smiles, and eventually he couldn’t help but smile back. It came to a point where he’d feel bad, questioning himself and what it meant, but his guilt had been calmed, if only a little, when his friend William told him that the “little shitkid that had just transferred” was at least fourteen.

Apparently the little twat hadn’t been himself after a Carl Powers kid drowned some years back, and he’d been transferred over and over again. Part of Sebastian felt a boiling rage towards Will for putting it like that, but at this point he was still struggling with his place in the world, snogging girls behind the dumpsters during recess, and so he didn’t complain.

-

However, life had different plans for Sebastian. One lunch hour proved to change everything when the so called shit kid sat down next to him during lunch, and with that kept all his friends from sitting there as well.

“James Moriarty. I thought you should know.” The shit kid, now James, said casually while opening his carton of milk. He didn’t say much more, and left Sebastian in silence the rest of the lunch hour.

The next week James positioned himself in front of Sebastian, the same smile with those deep, peculiar eyes locked onto him, and he opened his milk carton.

“ _Sebastian._ ” He declared. “Sebastian _Moran_.”

He was Irish, something Sebastian had failed to notice in the confusion from the day before. His accent was soft, round, the words floating out from between his lips, and his voice was still high, sweet. It was surrealistic, sitting here with this kid, with James, just eating.

The lunch visits became more frequent, and it didn’t take long before the short, impersonal statements turned into questions. In the beginning Sebastian had to keep reminding himself that James was fourteen, two years younger, and despite their conversations soon flowing easily, and the feeling of mutual trust, they were nothing more than strangers, perhaps growing to acquaintances.

Before Sebastian knew it James had turned into Jim, and the fourteen year old followed him everywhere. William had complained at first, but it was nothing a push against the wall and some well-placed threats couldn’t handle, and it didn’t take long before he let them be completely. He kept his friends and his social status, and still got to hang around with Jim – it was a win-win situation, really.

-

But then, in the end, it wasn’t. Sebastian came to a point where he realized what was happening, and it wasn’t good. In less than two months the new kid had become James Moriarty, James Moriarty had turned into Jim, and the daily lunch chats had become inadequate, and now he found himself in Jim’s bedroom, ‘studying’.

Jim had spent the last hour trying to discretely move himself closer to Sebastian, failing terribly, and Sebastian had spent an equal amount of time trying to figure out whether to move away or to encourage the behaviour. He wanted to say something before it was too late, but Jim smiled his piercing, know-it-all smile and put a finger over his lips.

“Oh, hush. I’ve seen the way you look at me, Sebby.” Jim began, his voice sweet and only ever so condescending. “You want to, don’t you?” he continued, whispering as he slid closer on the bed, and Sebastian didn’t really have much to say anymore, and so their distance closed with a clumsy, a bit too eager, a bit too inexperienced kiss from both parts, and before he knew it he was snogging with his new _boy_ friend, Jimmy.

-

If anyone had told Sebastian that what he was doing was wrong, he didn’t seem to accept it, but as the year went on and he turned 17, Jim 15, he noticed the way Jim had begun to react whenever he was late for a date, or had to cancel.

With a lump in his throat he started to see Jim’s spiteful glances whenever he let his eyes linger too long on someone else, and the way his voice went from sweet to raw, uncontrolled rage in less than seconds when he learned that Sebastian had been at a birthday party and stayed over.

Despite his short, fragile build, Jim was on edge most of the time, and Sebastian learned to tip toe around him, carefully avoiding anything that could push him over, but one late night, rubbing against each other under Sebastian’s sheets, he felt the coarse skin on Jim’s arms, as if there were scars, or even healing wounds.

Sebastian broke the kiss, but he could feel Jim tensing against him, and in fear of pushing the wrong buttons he slowly returned.

He placed his lips on Jim’s, beckoning a sweet, pleased sound from his boyfriend’s throat, and stroked calm, reassuring circles on his back. He kept it slow, calm, and slowly he realized exactly how much of a danger Jim was to himself, how much of a danger _he_ was to Jim… And that was also when Sebastian Moran, the poor idiot, realized that this wasn’t just a crush, this wasn’t just a boy he snogged, he was _in love_ with Jim Moriarty, and when Jim tensed again as Sebastian’s lips left his, Sebastian sat up.

He wrapped Jim up in his arms, the darkness forcing him to make slow, careful movements, and curled his fingers into the younger boy’s hair. He could still feel Jim’s uncertainty, his muscles tense as he leaned against Sebastian’s chest, and his breath slow and unsteady, measured, and Sebastian planted a soft kiss to his forehead.

Jim sighed. His muscles relaxed ever so slightly, and Sebastian rested his own forehead to the younger boy’s, holding him tighter than ever, and a soft sigh escaped his own lips.

“I love you, Jimmy.”

The words came out from his lips, a mere whisper in the dark, but sounding more certain than he’d been prepared to. It was a mix between a question and a statement, his voice steady, but vulnerable, honest, and what came more as a surprise to him than the strength of his words was the way Jim reacted.

-

First came the silence. There was a silence filling the room that made Sebastian more than a little uncomfortable, but he kept his hands on Jim’s back and in his hair, pressing soft kisses to his forehead as he rocked them slowly back and forth. It was unpleasant, terrifying, and Sebastian started to wonder if he might have finally crossed the line. It wasn’t as if this was the first time Sebastian had said those words, but it was the first time he’d meant them, and to be put down like this would be devastating for his self-image and confidence.

It seemed as if Jim was holding his breath, and it felt awful. His body was tense, and it seemed as if he waited for something, to be pushed away or told that it was all a prank, and when he finally let go he exhaled slowly, his breath shaking, followed by a trembling sob. In mere seconds Jim was shaking in his arms, but Sebastian stayed strong, never letting go, not even once, and despite Jim not saying the words he felt certain that the feelings were reciprocated.

Jim was shaking in Sebastian’s arms, finally revealing just how much on edge he had been the past months. Sebastian had only ever seen him indifferent, happy or angry, in various forms, and though it was utterly heart breaking to see him like this he couldn’t help but feel relieved that Jim could feel like this, that he could let go in front of him.

Sebastian wanted to talk, murmur soft nothings and calm Jim down, but somehow it felt wrong. He felt like the words he’d just said, the proclamation and sincerity of it all, was stirring the air around them, that it needed time to calm, for Jim to accept it, and so he kept his mouth shut. He stayed silent for what felt like an eternity. An eternity of holding Jim close, feeling his frantic heart beat against his own chest. An eternity of them, only them together, and though he felt bad, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

At some point Jim had wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s back, and his fingers had curled around the fabric of his shirt, threatening to split the seams in his tight grip. Kissing and snogging had never been a big deal for him, and though it was clumsy and inexperienced at first his enthusiasm had made up for it, and Sebastian had been a good tutor. This, however, was something different indeed.

The last time he had cried was the night he decided Carl Powers needed to die. It had given him something to focus on, something to look forward to, and when it was over he had distanced himself from everyone, letting them believe he was traumatized. When he’d met Sebastian he had felt connected, and kissing, snogging, it had only felt natural, but this… Being… loved? Feeling love? It was something Jim had never thought he’d be capable of, and it was too much.

Jim suddenly felt tired, exhausted, and for once he felt safe enough to let go, to reveal himself, if only a little, and it felt good. His eyes were sore, and his throat was thick, but Sebastian was there, a fixed point to focus on, to keep him grounded despite his instinct telling him to run away. He felt safe. He felt loved.

Sebastian held on for the love of his life, soothing and calming him until the sobs were nothing but sniffs and sighs, and the shaking was a weak tremble throughout Jim’s body. For the first time in months the boy leaned against Sebastian, calm and silent, and he lay them both down, letting him relax properly. He could feel Jim’s breathing even out, and as the only sign of life remaining was his soft sighs and the weak rise and fall of his chest, Sebastian nuzzled his nose into Jim’s hair and made a promise to both of them that he would always protect him, no matter what.


	2. Make Her Proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy's past, moving towards their first meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A WIP. I've fallen a bit out of the Sherlock fandom the last months due to stuff happening in my life etc, but I have not given up on this. I don't know when I'll get back to it, but I will.

Jim Moriarty was the kind of boy to calculate, to observe before doing. When he was a little boy his mamaí used to tickle him, and he would laugh until he cried and couldn’t breathe, and then she would hold him and stroke his hair, whispering sweet endearments in her mother language, and he would listen, he would accept. One night she had held him extra hard, kissed his forehead and told him he was Cliste, that he would grow up to be her Rí beag, and he had wondered what that meant. He had wondered until his mind was spinning, but still refused to ask.

Eventually the word had been put away, and the usual endearments returned with the tickles, but mamaí had become tired, and more than once Jim overpowered her. He took pride in it, growing older and stronger, until he saw her face. Her tired, sad face. After that Jim would let her win, he would let her have the upper hand, but as time passed dadaí would yell at Jim, tell him he was a “buachaill dona”, and mamaí would spend more time in her bedroom and less time with Jim.

At school one of the parents had told their daughter that she should be nice to Jim, and before he knew it he was bombarded by questions and mocking laughter every day.

“Is it true your mama is bald like a man?”

“Is it true your mummy doesn’t work anymore? Are you poor, now?”

“Is it true your mom’s gonna die?”

Jim had cried. He had ran home, leaped between dadaí’s legs and bursted through the door to his mamaí’s bedroom.

“You can’t do this to me! It’s not fair, why aren’t you playing with me! You said I was your thaisce!” he had screamed, but mamaí hadn’t replied, she had just smiled sadly and petted his hair until dadaí had pulled him out of her arms and practically thrown him down in his own bed.

“You leave your mother alone, you hear me?! She’s tired, and she does _not_ need this right now!” he had yelled to the torn up boy, and slammed the door shut.

-

The funeral had been a disaster. Aintín Margaret had given Jim one of mamaí’s old teddy bears, told him she’d have wanted him to have it. Jim had hugged it, held it tight. It smelt like mamaí, felt like mamaí, and instead of crying like everyone else, Jim had laughed. For the first time in months he had laughed, and aintín had held him and laughed with him until dadaí had pulled aintín away, sending Jim a look that made his body freeze, his heart with it.

Jim had followed them, leaning his head to the door where dadaí had taken aintín, and he stood there to listen.

“Take him. I can’t keep him, Margaret, you have to take him.” Jim could hear his father’s voice sighing. “He looks like her, he sounds like her, and he’s ruining everything. He’s a bother, a complete pest.”

At first there was complete silence, and Jim, with tears now running down his cheeks again, was wondering wether Margaret would leave him as well, or if she’d keep him. Then he heard the slap. A loud, ringing slap followed by aintín Margaret’s voice.

“Of course I’ll take him, you complete bastard! You don’t deserve having him here, you don’t deserve anything of Gillian’s!”

Jim moved away from the door just in time for Margaret to rip it open. She grabbed his arm and nearly swept him of his feet as she pulled him away from his dadaí

“Come, Jimmy. We don’t have to be here anymore.” She beckoned, and pulled him to her car. He sobbed silently, but followed and sighed relieved when she finally let go of his arm.  
Later that evening, after they had picked up his most important things, he got undressed in his new room and looked at his arm. Red marks were starting to show, and he hissed as he touched them, making a promise that they would forever symbolize the love his aintín had for him when she took him away.

-

Jim had managed to stay calm for two months after mamaí’s death. He had stayed silent, kept to himself, done all his homework, and if you went by the book he should have been doing okay by now.

Wrong.

It took Carl Powers exactly two minutes and 34 seconds during lunch time to realize how fun it would be to ruin Jim’s life even further. It took him less than said seconds to scoot over to him and grab Jim’s milk.

“You know, no one wants you here.” Carl sneered, and casually poured the milk over Jim’s sandwich. “It’s no wonder you’re an outcast. You know, I bet your precious _mamaí_ died just to get away from you. Not even she could stand being close to you more than necessary.”

Jim’s eyes had welled up with tears at his wrecked lunch, but it soon froze. He blinked, cleared his throat, and looked up at Carl with a smile.

“Carl, Carl, Carl. You’re so obvious sometimes.” He sighed, still smiling as he grabbed his soaking sandwich and led it up to his mouth.

“You can’t break a heart that isn’t there. But I... am going... to break yours.” He continued, chewing the soggy bread and ham. “And I am going to enjoy every second of it.”

Carl Powers was left staring at Jim until he was done eating his ruined lunch, gave Carl a nod, and left.

-

That was the last time Jim smiled in years, and also the last time he’d been close to crying. He shut himself off, and the only time he ever showed his face was when his aintín, no... _aunt_ forced him to go out to family dinners. No matter how much they tried, he refused to smile, he refused to speak. Now and then he would nod politely and pass the gravy, or tilt his head to his great uncle, listening to the stories from the war, and whenever things got too much he’d glare with big, dark eyes, and somehow that was enough to shut them all up.

When Carl Powers suddenly _drowned_ out of nowhere at age eleven, whatever remained of Jim’s sanity seem to go down the drain. He was at home when it happened; the news showing up on tv, and aunt Margaret didn’t even have time to turn it off before it was announced. Jim was ten years old.

Aunt Margaret had nearly given up all hope by the end of that month. Jim hadn’t said anything at all, and he had barely eaten, so when she heard his door creek open followed by swift, small footsteps towards the frotn door, she let him leave only to follow behind. When she realized where he was going she felt a pang of guilt for her loving nephew. The kid had been through so much in just ten years of living, and despite his own struggles he had the decency to go to Carl Powers grave alone.

Poor Jimmy was standing silently, just staring at the grave, and it was just before Margaret went over to him when Jim started to speak.

“It happened too fast, Carl.”

Margaret had to hold her hand in front of the mouth. Poor boy, poor, little boy, who had lost so much and still was so strong, stronger than any boy should ever have to be.

“It happened too fast. I wish... I wish I could have been there. If only I could... It wouldn’t have happened like this.”

Jim took a deep breath and shifted on his feet.

“Too fast, Carl. So fast, you probably didn’t feel much.”

The words sounded odd, but Margaret thought Jim brave to do this, to stand up to his emotions, handling things in his own way.

When Jim came home, aunt, no... aintín Margaret gave him hot chocolate and toast – life was good again.

-

Life was good, except it wasn’t. Jim had made the error to believe that Carl Powers was the only one who truly deserved to die, and it didn’t take long before he realized his list was too long to complete without raising suspicion.

His mood fell quickly, and despite all the effort he put in keeping up his facade (Which, if he was to be honest with himself, wasn’t much at all anymore) he was removed from school, transferred.

Transferred, ugh. Boring.

There were the formalities all over again – meeting, greeting, repeating over and over again, and every time it all went as bad as it possibly could. It seemed people hated Jim as much as he hated them, and it made things painfully difficult.

Blending in. God, how he hated it. Creeping down to the commoner’s level, pretending to be something he wasn’t.

Aintín, now back to aunt again, kept insisting, urging him to show people that he “could be nice!” when he really couldn’t.

To be honest, he wasn’t actually sure if he could or not, it was more that he couldn’t be bothered to try when he knew the outcome was the same either way – people didn’t like Jim Moriarty, and he didn’t want them to.

Jim Moriarty couldn’t believe in faith even if he wanted to, but just four years after Carl Power’s death he might have reconsidered that. After countless months, years, of running and hiding and cursing his aunt for having him transferred over and over again, he finally found a stop to all of it.

First day of school was always the worst – being inroduced to his new class, learning the new halls, and it began just as any other beginning; boring, annoying, just another group of teenagers with judging glares and smirks, but then he saw Sebastian.

Tall boy, not more than two years older than Jim, and my goodness was he gorgeous.

It took Jim only a well placed smile to have the older boy glare back, blush, and turn away.

He didn’t curse at Jim, he didn’t scowl, yell some stupid profanity or send a look to his friends that would let Jim know he should hide for a while, no he blushed.

This was perfect.

Just a month in his new school, Jim had gotten a friend. They didn’t know each other, but somehow they didn’t need to. Exchanged smiles in the halls became what kept Jim going through the days with these boring people, boring life.

Jim found a challenge, and in less than a weeks time he had learned that Sebastian’s mother was named Mathilda, she was an only child, but hadn’t always been. Sebastian’s father he couldn’t find a name for, but he wasn’t in the picture anyway. Neither were Sebastian’s two sisters, and though Jim didn’t feel happy that Sebastian was, in many ways, equally misfortuned as himself, he still felt gleeful over how _easy_ this was proving to be.

It was plain to see, really; Sebastian was in three sports teams, and still managed to balance his homework enough to keep his mother proud. He was _protecting_ her.

The muscles added to his tall, proud posture dominating the hallways. He was showing off, telling the world that he was the man of the family, that he was his mother’s protector.

Despite the gesture being silly, bordering to pathetic, Jim had no doubts that Sebastian could protect himself and his mother if needed, and that was interesting enough in itself. The fact that Sebastian didn’t seem to mind him, however, was more interesting, and though Sebastian had more girls behind him than most other guys his age, he was still a virgin. Standards, right? Standards, values, or just shy. Jim couldn’t decide which was more intriguing.

Jim Moriarty was the kind of boy to calculate, to observe before doing, and that was exactly what he did, standing in the lunch hall when he noticed that Sebastian was sitting alone for once. With a swift movement he had placed himself in front of the taller boy and opened his carton of milk.

“James Moriarty. I thought you should know.”


	3. Falling Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian was walking out for lunch when his world crumbled down around him. In reality it was just a crack in the wall of his life, but it was the beginning, and it would prove to be the last thing that would cause the foundation to break and crumble. Jimmy had been Sebastian’s boyfriend for a year and a half, and though he wasn’t what Sebastian had seen when he’d earlier imagined his future relationship, things weren’t half as bad as they should have been. But all good things come to an end.
> 
> Sebastian was seventeen years old when his life started falling apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A WIP. I've fallen a bit out of the Sherlock fandom the last months due to stuff happening in my life etc, but I have not given up on this. I don't know when I'll get back to it, but I will.

Sebastian was walking out for lunch when his world crumbled down around him. In reality it was just a crack in the wall of his life, but it was the beginning, and it would prove to be the last thing that would cause the foundation to break and crumble. Jimmy had been Sebastian’s boyfriend for a year and a half, and though he wasn’t what Sebastian had seen when he’d earlier imagined his future relationship, things weren’t half as bad as they should have been. But all good things come to an end.

Sebastian was seventeen years old when his life started falling apart.

Sebastian was seventeen years old when his teacher told him to stay after class.

-

The past month had felt like a year. A long, suffering year with no sleep or food or rest. How did normal people do this? It wasn’t easy, that was for sure. Jim was still sick, still stubborn and still an insufferable bastard, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he loved to make Jim smile, to look at him as if he was a miracle, he would have called this off a long time ago. But somehow it was worth it. His grades dropping, his friends ditching him for game night and his mother no longer praising his hard work, it was all worth it to hear Jim laugh despite sore throat and red eyes.

“Where’s the ice cream?” Jim nagged for the umpteenth time, pulling at Sebastian’s shirt. He was covered in blankets, cold sweating and glaring with blank eyes, and even though his voice was barely audible through the rasping and wincing he still managed to sound annoying.

“I gave it to you.” Sebastian answered with a sigh, and placed a soaked cloth on Jim’s forehead, rubbing gently.

Jim groaned and turned away.

“No, you gave me pre-digested horse shit.”

“Horse shit is already digested, Jim. That’s how it became shit.” Sebastian laughed, prompting another threatening glare from Jim and a weak punch towards his side.

“Don’t be so fucking obvious, Seb!” he complained with a broken voice, throwing himself into a fit of coughing and retching, prompting Sebastian to lay him back down.

“See, this is exactly why I didn’t buy that chocolate chip crap for you. Your throat is sore enough already, just calm down alright?” he murmured with a sigh as he lay down next to Jim, the words sounding more like a beckon than a question. When had it come to this? Looking forward to a lie down next to his sick boyfriend, to finally get to relax even if it meant that Jim was complaining that he was near death, that he was kicked out of the rugby team and no longer had exercises, and that he didn’t have anyone to hang out with anymore?

 “Say it again…” and there it goes. Ever since Sebastian had dropped the L-word Jim had used every pitiful situation to squeeze it out of him. He had never said it back, not even close to, but whenever he could he’d use that sweet, cooing voice of his to lure it out of Seb again.

“Just one more time…” Jim continued, beckoned, and curled weakly up at Sebastian’s side.

“Please?”

Sebastian was sold. He was completely sold, but in the end, hadn’t he been since the beginning?

“I love you, Jimmy.”

Jim didn’t answer, as always.

Sebastian stroked Jim’s soaked hair back from his face.

“I love you so much.”

-

When William showed up the next day, Sebastian had gotten a nasty cough. If he had slept home as he should have he wouldn’t have been allowed out the door. If Jim’s aunt hadn’t stopped worrying about the pair of them (Oh, aren’t they adorable together?) he probably would have.

But now here he was, with a nasty cough and sore nose, and William did not look happy at all. If Sebastian hadn’t known better he’d have thought Will was mad, but Sebastian knew him well enough to understand that he was most likely just upset. The vein in his forehead, his crooked frown and fists on his side wasn’t much of a threat to him.

“Where the hell’ve you been?!” Will complained just as he was within hearing distance.

“Don’t tell me that fucking shitkid has you wrapped up? Has he given you any STD’s yet?”

Sebastian flinched just a bit. He was so tired, too tired to bother with arguing, and yet the last remark made him want to punch William so bad it almost hurt. As if they’d had sex. As if Jim was mentally stable enough. As if either of them were ready.

“Don’t fucking go there, Will. Just don’t.” Sebastian sighed, a glance of amusement ran across William’s face, and a glare from Sebastian shut him up again.

“I’m busy. I’m tired. And you, you stay the fuck out of it. You stay the fuck out of my life.”

William looked like he could burst, his ears turning a deep shade of red by the blood pumping through his veins. He took a step closer, Sebastian could see how he gritted his teeth by the look of his jaw tightening, straining. Was this supposed to be a threat?

“I’m here for _you_ , Sebastian.” William growled, pressing a finger in Sebastian’s chest. Was _this_ supposed to be a threat? Sebastian raised an eyebrow to William.

“I’m here… for _you_!” William repeated himself, twisting his finger against Sebastian. “We miss you man.  This fuckwad’s gotten you twisted. But hey, fine, if that’s what you really want. You know where to find me.”

Sebastian was ready to grab Williams arm, twist it behind his back and pin him to the wall, and it wasn’t until Sebastian watched William walk away that he realized he had just lost his best friend as well.

One less thing to worry about.

-

If you had asked Sebastian a year and a half ago what life was about, what he wanted, he would tell you that life was about protecting mum from unsociable bastards who wanted her for reasons unmentionable, that he wanted to be strong, protective, capable. If you asked him today the answer would be pretty much the same, but mum wasn’t mentioned anymore. Jim had become Sebastian’s willpower, the strength to get him out of bed, but where protecting mum had been equal with getting good grades, having good friends, going to good hobbies, protecting Jim meant keeping his dropping grades hidden, focusing on Jim before friends, and taking Jim up as his new and only hobby.

William had been right, this was getting out of hand, but it was too late to stop now. It was too late, wasn’t it?

“Mr. Moran!”

Sebastian snapped his head up, catching professor Abbington’s eyes.

“An avalanche is headed your way and you’re in danger of being covered, leaving you to suffocate to death. Is it too late to run?”

Sebastian snorted and tilted his head. Seriously, what kind of question was this?

“Well, that depends on a lot of variables, professor. If I’m stuck, for example, I obviously can’t get away.” He replied arrogantly, and now it was the professor’s time to tilt his head.

“You’ll stay after class, Mr. Moran.” Mr. Abbington sighed, and turned back to the chalk board. The silent buzz in Sebastian’s mind went quiet and he looked back down to his desk, to his phone.

\- I’ll get over a bit later today. Sorry, Jimmy.-SM

He stared at the text for a moment, letting the words sink in to himself. Was he stuck?

\- Why? What are you doing? J

Sebastian sighed. No, this was his fault. Jim was a wreck, a total wreck, and if Sebastian didn’t do anything to stop himself from hurting him, Jim would most likely end up… dead.

What kind of lie would he have to make up this time? Jim couldn’t know he was failing, he wouldn’t let him know that Sebastian was too stupid for him. It would break him.

\- Just some consulting with the coach. I won’t be long.-SM

Sebastian didn’t get an answer, and sometimes he would wish Jim to yell at him instead of the painful silent. It was frightening, really, not knowing what Jim was up to. Was he alright? Was he mad? Upset? Lonely? In truth he always was, and despite Sebastian’s many efforts it didn’t seem to help.

Every time Sebastian came late, Jim would yell at him.

Every time Sebastian forgot to send a message, Jim would yell at him.

Every time Sebastian couldn’t spend the night, Jim would yell at him.

And that was fine. That was all fine, but for every time Jim yelled, Sebastian would find a new cut on Jim’s arms, and his eyes would turn darker for each time Sebastian mentioned it.

When class was finished Sebastian stayed, but later he would wish he hadn’t.

Mr. Abbington wasn’t mad as Sebastian first had thought. No, he was kind, friendly even, as he showed Sebastian his slipping grades.

“You need to step up your game, Mr. Moran. You can do it, I know you can. But right now, with just a few months left before summer, I’m afraid I have to take you in to extra classes after school. It’s the only way you’ll pass.”

Fucking hell, as if life wasn’t done screwing him over.

-

Sebastian had accepted the extra classes, after a talk to his mother who seemed to be just as tired as he was. It wasn’t easy hiding it for Jim, but he put in an effort. There was nothing in this world that would make Sebastian confess to Jim, the adorable, little genius, that his big, strong boyfriend needed extra classes, but the lies became more and more unreliable.

“Sorry, Rick’s eighteenth birthday, I had to go!”

“Boys wanted to work out till the next game.”

“It was playnight! I couldn’t just skip out on that!”

Sebastian could see it in Jim’s eyes every time he lied, the pained expression, the pleading glance, begging him to stay. It hurt, and the only thing that made it worth it was that Jim was getting better and might get to go back to school soon. Maybe then they could hang out a bit more.

It wasn’t ideal, of course, but it had to be done.

Tonight, however, Sebastian was done early. The sun was still up when he walked out of the school premises, taking a deep breath through his nose. He took his time walking to Jim’s house, letting himself relax for the first time in weeks. Sebastian started thinking about how it’d go when he was done with high school, when he had to leave, how was Jim going to take that? Not well, likely.

Jim’s aunt Margaret wasn’t home, but the door was open as usual so Sebastian walked right in. This had become his second home, and he treated it such as well. Hanging up his coat he strolled into the kitchen to fetch himself an apple before heading to Jim’s room.

And there he was, Jimmy, curled up under the blankets in his bed. It was a wonderful, relaxing sight, peaceful.

Sebastian sighed and sat on Jim's bedside, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jim was already asleep, although it was a bit early, even with him still being sick.. This was getting out of hand; he barely had time to see Jim anymore.

"I'm sorry for ruining you..." he muttered, while stroking Jim's side lovingly. “I’ll make it up to you some day. I promise. I’ll make it all up to you, if it’s the last thing I do.”

He let his hand slide carefully down to Jim's arm to squeeze it, but... why was it wet? Sebastian felt his heart jump and pulled the blanket off his unconscious boyfriend. A gasp escaped him, his heart and everything around him stopped as he stared at the pooled blood and the knife in Jim's unharmed hand. His chest was barely rising.

"Fuck no."


	4. AUTHOR'S NOTE

I am terribly sorry for not having continued this series yet. Part 2 has been planned in detail, but I've had quite a lot of issues regarding my own life and school and etc, and my motivation has been really low. In a week I'm done at school and I'll have plenty of time writing, so after getting some rest I'll be back at it! Sorry for the long wait, dearies!


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